


if it will help my sea level go down

by handschuhmaus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dooku being a grandpa, Fix-It of Sorts, Non-canonical Tusken Raiders, no one gets fridged
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 17:51:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20970602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handschuhmaus/pseuds/handschuhmaus
Summary: title from Emilie Autumn's "Swallow" (which is a bit more sweary than most songs I mention)





	if it will help my sea level go down

The call came at the worst of times, when Anakin was not where he was supposed to be.

And he hadn't fathomed he was on that steep of a precipice, except that as soon as Yoda realized his transgression, the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order said "If follow the will of the Force you will not, a Jedi no longer you shall be. When report back to Coruscant you do, remove your rank I will."

Anakin stared at Padme, having nothing to say to Yoda after that. After a moment, she reached up and terminated the comm call. 

With quick thinking, she said, "You can come to Naboo. You can bring your mom if there's any way we can get her out."

Anakin's voice was husky and uncomprehending "What will I _do_?" He had just been stripped of all he had known beyond slavery.

"You still have friends on Naboo; we remember your heroism. I and Chancellor Palpatine between us will hardly let you starve, and if you cannot stand to be on Naboo, I have friends you might be able to stay with for a bit. The Organas on Alderaan, or Mothma's family on Chandrila."

He blinked. "We should hurry, if there's any chance of reaching Mom--" 

So he punched in a speed increase and settled down on his cot numbly, to try to understand what would happen, now that he'd accidentally got himself expelled from the Jedi Order.

* * *

He was afraid he'd find Shmi dead, and he hoped at best that it would be like a hundred missions where he had to go in and do the ...ex-Jedi thing to rescue her. He hadn't even quite registered that Padme would be behind him, blaster in hand, covering his back and sides.

What he did not expect was some kid around his age (maybe a few years either way), holding Shmi, who looked very near death, while a teenaged girl pantomimed to the Tuskens and spoke in some sort of Huttese pidgin. Behind her stood a slightly older guy, and a couple who were probably Shmi's age, armed with, but not brandishing, blaster rifles. 

"What she means is, you leave us alone, and you can come up to us for doctoring. Hell, we'll share our water with you. I know you don't like people coming after you, and I'll see to it they stop. Cliegg'll be happy his wife's alive, he's got half the village out searching for her, so if you just stop coming after us--" the man said, loudly, his rifle still slung across his back.

"We'll _hide_ you, when it's needed, if you'll just not kidnap and hurt people! Shmi didn't deserve this!" says the woman.

The teenage girl was apparently the translator and couldn't keep up with all of this, but two of the smaller Tuskens exchanged a glance and stepped forward. 

"_It's Mama's birthday_," said the slightly taller one of the two, in awkward Huttese. "_She's mad Jand died._"

"_A killing for a killing don't make anyone alive again,_" the translator said, in even worse Huttese.

"_I was going to bring my sister to Madam Cloudstrider, I mean, later, but before this,_" continued the Huttese speaking Tusken. After a moment, Anakin realized that was a horrible translation of "Skywalker".

"_My father says we'll do almost anything if you stop going after our people. Even hide you._" answered the translator.

"_I'll ask Mama. Is she--your mother?_" the Tuskan agreed.

Impulsively, Anakin spoke up. "_She's my mother_"

The sound of his voice tore a cracked syllable from Shmi: "-ni!"

"Anakin Skywalker!" exclaimed the man (who is probably their translator's father. "Jedi wouldn't let you get away? Not that Cliegg could get word to you, but Shmi said you might know if she was in danger."

The name Cliegg meant nothing to him, but he put his lightsaber back at his belt and rushed over to Shmi.

"Mom!" he said, and grasped her hand. 

"Do you have water on you?" the teenager who's holding her asked urgently. "I left my pack with Mr. Whitesun when they agreed I could, um, remove her from their restraints."

Even after all this time, Anakin was still a child of the desert, and still knew to carry water, to treasure it, to drink, not to flood dehydrated stomachs with too much water. He fumbled out his canteen and tipped it to her mouth, giving Shmi a drink.

"_Here,_" said a third voice, in accented Huttese. Anakin--and the teenager--looked up to see one of the Sand People holding forth a mug of some sort of gruel, with a worn wooden spoon in it..

Hate flared in him--how could they do this and then dare to offer her food like this? "_How do we know this isn't poison?_" he snapped.

"_Jand my uncle. Said either teach them a lesson or would bite us. Raham says Mistress **Skywalker** helped my mother with the baby. Should not be like this._"

"What are they saying, Anakin?" Padme asked, but she was sensible enough to have holstered her blaster, and to approach him with caution.

"His uncle said this would either teach us a lesson or 'bite them', and someone says Mom helped ...his mom with a baby," Anakin fell back into the role of interpreting, in part because translation allowed him to think more on what was said.

"Did," Shmi said dreamily. "_You must be Cha._"

"_I will taste it! It is not poison! They wouldn't give her food. You must eat!_" the Tusken insisted, and pulled back his headcovering to reveal his face, and to sample the gruel. He did not look so different from Anakin, a chilling thought.

Anakin still did not trust it, until he too had tasted and found it to be bland but ordinary sgom, the grain cooked into a warm mush, something he'd never eaten much on Tatooine and never since, but still familiar. He gave Shmi another drink and then, knowing she had done this for him as a child, guided a spoonful of porridge into her mouth. "Water," she begged, once she had swallowed, and so he tilted the canteen up again, and then noticed that the atmosphere around them had changed.

A short Tusken had walked out into the middle of things, a blaster rifle stowed across their back, and was now in animated conversation with the one who had spoken with the translator. He caught the name Raham, as if addressing said person, from the new Tuskan, but he did not understand their language to translate.

The Tuskan who seemed to represent them finally turned to the translator and said "_Madam Skywalker can go, with her family. Mama wants you to stay here, until A'Sher gets back and he can negotiate._"

"_Are you taking us captive?_" asked their translator.

"_No. But if you leave, negotiations close."_

"I think you must be my stepbrother," said the teenager who still had Shmi draped over his lap. "Anakin?"

He knew he should acknowledge this, but all he could think to say was "...I didn't know she got married."

"My dad helped her free herself. He's off looking in the other direction, because we weren't sure where the Sand People took her."

"Ani, love you," Shmi interjected, reaching weakly for his hand.

"I love you too, Mom," Anakin muttered intently, still frightened that she was going to die here, with him never having gotten to visit her again.

"I think this could be worth tears right now," Anakin's stepbrother offered, a little awkwardly, and that shook Anakin down to his bones, throwing him back to a time when emotions were only hidden around slavemasters, and crying discouraged only because it wasted water.

A small smile spread across Shmi's chapped lips, and she playfully added, "Not for me. Water." 

Could he let himself cry, here? It seemed to be starting, anyway, just another failing as a Jedi.

"Anakin, why don't you give your stepbrother the canteen so your mom can have some more water? Or me," Padme suggested, putting a supportive hand on his shoulder. She was his friend, and she did not mind his tears.

"Uh, right," he said, and handed it across to the other teenager.

"I'm Owen, by the way, Owen Lars. They're the Whitesuns--Beru, her parents, and her cousin." Owen said, as he tipped the canteen to Shmi's lips again.

"_I'll come with you, to farm, so not will attack. I'm Fas,_" the Tusken boy suddenly offered.

"_What's going to happen to them?_" Anakin asked, gesturing at the Whitesuns.

"A'Sher speaks ...Basic?" Fas informed him haltingly "_Beru and Raham can talk back and forth. Mama doesn't want more death._"

"_Is Raham your sister?_" Anakin asked, not sure why he was asking. Maybe because a Jedi always gathered information, not that he was one much longer, maybe because he wanted to know more about the few of the Tuskens who seemed repentant over what had happened to Shmi. If she were dead, he would be unable to contain his rage, he was sure, but she was not dead, yet, and Fas was, at least on the face of it, offering help.

"_Cousin. Friend. Mama is our_ ...grandmother" Fas stumbled over the word, but it still brought into sharp relief that like most people across the galaxy (but not the Jedi, or at least they weren't supposed to), the Tuskens had a family.

"What's he saying? I don't really understand Huttese," Owen asked, giving Shmi another spoonful of sgom, which she readily chewed and swallowed.

"He'll come with us to your farm. For safe passage," Anakin interpreted, without much thought.

"Can I get my pack from Mr. Whitesun? I have water, and rehydration solution, and other food." Owen's question was not for Anakin's permission, but that of Fas.

Anakin translated, of course, not minding so much that he was a go between when his stepbrother and the teenaged Tusken so like himself were focused on Shmi's well-being. "_Fas, can Owen get his pack? Not a weapon, but water and supplies._. Owen, I told him you wouldn't fetch a weapon."

Fas yelled something in the Tusken language, and the short Tusken who might be their grandmother yelled back, at which the boy nodded to Owen.

"Will you be okay if I get my pack, Shmi?" Owen asked.

She nodded, and gripped Anakin's hand a little harder, pulling on it to sit more upright on the sand. "_So you're not Cha?_" she asked, with the same kindness Anakin remembered.

Fas blushed. "_It is... means Hanlel loves me. As like, son._"

Anakin frowned, careful to let neither of them see, and stared off toward the horizon, because for some reason that stung, that this Tusken was given a word of endearment from someone, and at best, if not his name, he has been called Padawan, meaning he was servant-student to the far better Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And then it was as if that emotion crystallized, leaving him both numb and aching at Shmi's pain.

Owen returning, mixing hydration solution and giving it to her; the journey back, finding a stranger whose house was also his mother's, and Owen's, Fas leaving and translating his goodbyes, Padme helping Owen with dinner while Anakin gave Shmi more electrolyte drink and bandaged her wounds...it all blurred together, felt more like a holo than his own experience. 

He was too numbed when he lay down that night, letting someone else take a short shift with Shmi, to answer the question in his mind: how he should feel about being back here on Tatooine, on someone's guest cot.

**Author's Note:**

> title from Emilie Autumn's "Swallow" (which is a bit more sweary than most songs I mention)


End file.
